


Fucked Up

by KeriArentikai



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Play, Anal Sex, BDSM, Barebacking, Biting, Bondage, Bottom!Stiles, Breathplay, Consensual Non-Consent If That's Possible, Dirty Talk, Dom!Derek, Dom/sub, Dom/sub Undertones, Dubious Consent, First Time, Happy Ending, Knotting, M/M, Non-Traumatizing Rape, Not OK IRL, Oral Sex, Overstimulation, Pain, Rimming, Sex Toys, Spanking, Stupid Boys, The Porn Is the Plot, Top!Derek, Unnegotiated Kink, Verbal Humiliation, rough oral, sub!Stiles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-29
Updated: 2013-01-12
Packaged: 2017-11-22 19:37:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/613500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KeriArentikai/pseuds/KeriArentikai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles thought that, in general, his relationship with Derek was pretty healthy.    It was the just the sex that was fucked up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Although clearly the last thing I needed to do was start another series, this has been knocking around in my head for a while. Basically, I wanted to write some really dirty stuff but I'm bad at writing non-love-based Sterek. So this is what happened. I have a few more parts already planned but not written and I have some idea of where I want it to end up - I suspect I'll end up with four chapters, but that number could go up or down a little. 
> 
> Anyway, yeah, please read the tags and if you're not going to enjoy it, please don't read it. To each their own kink, or something like that. The tags thus far refer to this chapter only; more will be added as I continue.
> 
> And you can find me on tumblr [here.](http://keriarentikai.tumblr.com/)

Stiles thought that, in general, his relationship with Derek was pretty healthy. Well, as healthy as it could be when they were as likely to be going after whatever supernatural terror was lurking around Beacon Hills in any given week as going out to a movie or to dinner. They talked about their days, they cared about each other and even Stiles’ dad came around after the whole werewolf reveal.

No, their relationship was fine. It was the sex that was fucked up. Stiles knew that if any of his friends or, god forbid, his father, knew what was going on, they’d be pretty horrified. He wasn’t exactly experienced, but he knew what he was doing was stupid, and maybe even dangerous. Sometimes he was afraid, although he couldn’t have said if he was afraid of what might happen if things went wrong or whether he was afraid this was the only way he could achieve such heights of intensity. He was afraid of a lot, but never of Derek himself. Even though sometimes he wondered why he wasn’t.

The noise of Derek climbing in through his window woke him up. He was still somewhat groggy when Derek took off his clothes and slipped into bed with him. The surface of his skin was cold, having just been exposed to the cool night air, but as always there was a deeper heat radiating out from him.

Stiles couldn't see the expression on Derek's face, but he could feel the strength in his arms when Derek held him closely, desperately.

"What's going on?" he asked.

"Peter and I had a fight," Derek replied.

"Verbal or physical?"

"Both," Derek answered, reluctantly. "He left, I... I don't think he's going to be back, not for a while." He sounded so sad and lost. "I know it's probably a good thing, but as much as I hated him, he was the last link I had to my old life, you know?"

Stiles kissed him, but he could feel the tension in Derek, tension that wasn't going away just from cuddling.

"Derek, what do you need?"

"Stiles," Derek just said his name, sounding thoroughly broken and on the verge of tears. "Stiles, Stiles, Stiles..." he spoke into Stiles' neck. Stiles felt a shiver of apprehension and excitement. They were too closely tied for comfort, he knew that, but how could he deny Derek?

Derek took his silence as acquiescence, which, really, it was, and bit down sharply - with human teeth - on Stiles' neck, where he had just been whispering sweetly. Stiles didn't think he was going to see sweet again for a while. He didn't think Derek had broken the skin, but it was close. The stab of pain rushed through his system, heightening everything.

Stiles usually slept shirtless, so Derek only needed to remove his boxers to get full access to Stiles, which he did with alacrity. Then his hands were everywhere, occupying every inch of his skin, using his supernatural speed (or, so it seemed to Stiles, anyway) to be more than one place at once. He wasn't gentle; he wasn't aiming at pain but he wasn't careful with his movements. Stiles just let him. He knew that he was only a participant in this, not an independent actor - he could tell how it was going to be.

Derek's mouth was leaving bite marks on his body - his chest, his shoulders, even his jaw once, and while none of them were as hard as that first bite, he knew he was going to have to use that concealer he had been so embarrassed to buy last month. But he didn't try to stop him, not when Derek was making pleased noises after every bite and the tension was starting to drain out of him.

Derek's hand moved down to roughly play with Stiles' balls and cock, which was already hard and full, and Stiles felt a little ashamed at how Derek's manhandling could do that to him so quickly every time. He sometimes wondered if Derek thought less of him for it. But tonight he wouldn't find out - Derek either talked filthily the whole way through sex or not at all, and sometimes the worse nights were the silent ones. It was as if Derek was so distressed he couldn't even find words.

But while Derek loved Stiles' cock, he really loved Stiles' ass so Stiles wasn't surprised when Derek's attention moved there. He clenched in reflex as Derek's fingers started tugging at his rim, which did not make Derek very happy. He growled and bit Stiles' shoulder again, pinning him in place.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry..." Stiles gasped out, feeling the twin pains of Derek's teeth on his skin and his fingers nudging into his hole, unlubricated and insistent. He knew Derek wouldn't stop until Stiles showed him he was sorry, rather than just saying it, so he tried his hardest to breathe through the pain and relax the ring of muscle so Derek could do what he wanted. When Derek felt the lessening of resistance, he grew gentler, licking at the spot where he had actually broken the skin this time and retreating with his hand, back to pulling his ass open at the edges rather than trying to push in. Stiles could feel the beginnings of tears in his eyes and really hoped Derek would go for the lube soon.

It took a few more minutes, but thankfully, he did. Not a lot, but enough for the pain to be mingled in with the sensations suffusing his body rather than to stay sharply located where Derek manipulated his flesh. He had three fingers in Stiles now - not pushing in and out in a directed way, but moving to and fro and around. But Derek couldn't get the angle he wanted by reaching around. Derek kissed him on the mouth, tongues touching, forceful but sweet, in its own way. 

Then Stiles was no longer lying on his side, facing Derek, but on his shoulders with his knees underneath him and spread open; a perverted version of child's pose. (He had discovered this when he tried a yoga class a couple of weeks ago - it seemed like a good idea to improve his strength and flexibility given his recent activities, but this was one of Derek's favourite positions for him and he kept getting hard so he had to leave the class in the middle.)

Derek sat behind him and used his hands to spread his cheeks even further open, so that Stiles could feel the air of the room on his exposed and already somewhat sore hole. Derek just kept him there like that, open, waiting, for a while - for too long, because Stiles couldn't help it when he eventually twitched and clenched again. He winced immediately, even before Derek did anything, and the tension just made it worse when Derek put both of his thumbs in Stiles and wrenched him as wide open as he could without actually tearing Stiles. 

Stiles cried out and probably just plain cried, too, words of contrition and obeisance tumbling out of his mouth, but Derek just held him there and it was Stiles and not Derek who eventually relented, Stiles' body which gave in and made the stretch bearable.

Derek opened him more and more with his fingers, going wider just a bit before Stiles adjusted to the last width, keeping him on the edge both of unbearable pain and orgasm. Because yes, his dick was dripping with precome under him, despite - or rather, because of - Derek's actions on his body. He knew something was wrong with this and his tears were as much of shame as of pain. But Derek didn't notice or didn't care.

Stiles couldn't see what was happening, as his head was down on the bed, but he wasn't surprised to feel something different at his entrance - Derek's cock, actually fairly lubed up. And Stiles knew what that extra lube meant and tried to move away, but Derek was faster than him and held his hips in place as he pushed all the way in in one jab. And he felt the swelling at the base of Derek's cock growing.

This was something Scott hadn't told Stiles about. Actually, Stiles wasn't even sure that Scott knew about it - he wasn't sure if it was an alpha thing or just a control thing, because Derek seemed to be able to control his knot pretty well - it was present or not as he wanted it, and its size also seemed dependent on what Derek wanted. Or maybe it was just bigger some times than others and Derek acted accordingly, Stiles wasn't sure. They hadn't talked about it. But he knew that when Derek was in a mood like this and used a lot of lube, the knot was going to get big.

And it did. Quickly. Derek only pulled out and went all the way back in a couple of times before the knot stopped being able to pass his rim without excruciating pain, so Derek just stayed inside, pushing forward rhythmically but not pulling out. Stiles still felt like he was being split open, like his body would part like a nut with its shell cracked and all that he was inside would be visible and vulnerable. Only Derek's hands on his hips, rubbing soothing circles into his skin, were holding him together, as Derek's dick took him apart.

It wasn't long before he came without Derek even touching his cock.

But Derek didn't stop.

He just kept pushing and pushing until Stiles was hard again then pulled back enough for Stiles to feel the pressure of his enormous knot at his rim. He thought he must have screamed when one of Derek's hands moved to cover his mouth and the other started jerking him off, hard. When he started to come for a second time, Derek actually pulled all the way out and pushed all the way back in and Stiles couldn't understand how that much pleasure could coexist with that much pain - he thought at first he must be actually ripped open but as the pain receded he figured he must still be whole.

Then Derek's knot started pulsing in him as Derek came with a groan, and if Stiles couldn't actually feel his come shooting into him, he imagined the warmth coating him inside, healing his hurts. Derek slowed but didn't stop his thrusts and his knot stayed in place, and Stiles knew this was still far from over.

Derek rolled them onto their sides so he could stay inside Stiles but have better access to his cock. At first Derek's touches were pleasant, fondling his balls and rolling them back and forth, gently stroking his cock up and down. But then they grew directed, stripping him up and down so that he started to chafe despite all the come, but Derek's knot was still pressed against his prostate and his warmth was all around him and after what felt like ages, he whined as he came for a third time. 

But if he let himself think it was over, he was wrong. Derek started the whole thing again, still not saying a word, and he moved inexorably as Stiles started to beg for him to stop. 

"No, oh god, Derek, stop, I can't, please, please just stop..." the words sounded like a repeating chorus.

"Shhh," Derek broke his silence to make comforting shushing noises in his ear as he continued, and Stiles was sobbing as he came a fourth and a fifth time. 

After the fifth time he just wasn't getting hard again, no matter how much longer Derek tried. His knot was receding and Stiles' body was just done, teenage recovery time be damned. When Derek slipped out of him, a rush of come following after, Stiles felt an overwhelming relief but also loss. 

The relief didn't last long as Derek moved down his body before he could turn around, pushing Stiles onto his back and mouthing at Stiles' red, abused, limp cock. He felt too tired even to object or cry anymore, all of the sensation, both pain and pleasure, wrung out of him. But Derek kept going, sucking him into his mouth, licking around the head, clearly not minding that there was no hint of life or hardness in him any more. Derek's fingers moved back to his hole which was still so, so sore and Stiles wanted to clench or cry when he felt Derek's thumbs pulling him open again, but he didn't. Derek hummed approvingly around his pathetic cock, still soft and warm in Derek's mouth, and he kept going for god knows how long - Stiles wasn't sure, he had lost all ability to judge time and he might even have fallen asleep for a while, pried open and dripping under Derek's eyes. 

Finally, finally, Derek climbed back up the bed to take Stiles in his arms, to curl around him, a protective layer against the rest of the world. Stiles held Derek's face in his hands and licked the tears off Derek's cheeks, as plentiful as his own, before falling asleep happy.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I have no patience and wrote this almost immediately after posting the last chapter. I can't say I'll be writing another one today, but I am kind of hoping to finish this before New Year's.
> 
> There was a lot of interesting discussion in the comments last time. So please pay attention to the tags - I really don't want anyone to not know what they're getting in to.

Ironically enough, they started out pretty slow.

Sure, there was the heated kiss in the underground bunker when they thought they might die and never deal with the sexual tension that had been simmering between them for ages, but that was just the catalyst. After they got out and sent the hunters running, Derek asked Stiles if he wanted to go get coffee the next day and Stiles was so stunned that he didn't even try to deepen the chaste peck that Derek planted on his lips as a goodbye.

And they went for coffee and dinner and they hung out and watched movies on the couch. Stiles told his dad about them and his dad insisted Derek come to dinner, and as much as Stiles was dreading it, the three of them actually had a really nice time together. Stiles realized that it wasn't just sexual tension between them and that he valued spending time with Derek. And Derek was gruff and closed-off sometimes, but sometimes he let Stiles see the real him, vulnerable and younger than his years. 

The only problem was that it had been weeks and they hadn't done more than kiss. Stiles was still a virgin and didn't really know how it all worked, and he sure as hell wasn't confident enough to push. He thought maybe it was a Kate issue - he had been there for an argument between Chris Argent and Derek and put two and two together, and Derek hadn't denied it when he asked. He figured that maybe Derek just wasn't into sex or the age difference put him off or something. Or maybe he just didn't want Stiles like that. On the nights when he was almost sure Derek was lurking around outside as he frantically jerked off, he leaned towards it being a problem with Stiles himself.

He was just about to resign himself to a celibate life (but a celibate life with Derek was better than a sex-filled life with anyone else, he was pretty sure) when things changed drastically.

Of course it was a near-death experience; one was bound to happen sooner or later. Stiles was kidnapped by a pack threatening to take over Beacon Hills. They planned to grab him because he was clearly Scott's best friend, but when the had him they figured out by scent that he was the alpha's boyfriend which made them even crueler. They didn't have him long - only long enough for some bruises and a lot of adrenaline to build up on and in Stiles' body - before he was rescued. They hadn't done their homework, expecting to face only a new-ish pack of werewolves, not expecting hunters, too.

Before Stiles could orient himself, could see what had happened to his captors, he was back at Derek's apartment, shaking with relief. Derek looked half-wild and still frantic, checking Stiles' body over for injuries. 

He pressed on every bruise, as if he wanted to claim them for his own.

Stiles knew that it was the shock and adrenaline and that this was probably some wolf thing and that he was being totally inappropriate, but he had been wanting Derek so much for so long and Derek's hands were on his skin. He was getting hard and breathing faster with every new bruise discovered.

He had just enough presence of mind left to be concerned that Derek didn't seem to be calming down. If anything, he was getting worse, pressing harder against his aches, removing Stiles' clothing to get better access. Then he started using his mouth as well as his hands, and Stiles stopped worrying.

It was only when Stiles was fully naked and pressed up against the wall that doubt crept back in. He wanted to have sex with Derek, he really really really did. But they had barely kissed before, he had never done anything like this and they'd never talked about it, and he was completely naked and vulnerable while Derek hadn't even taken off his leather jacket. Despite the fact that it was Derek who was sinking to his knees in front of him, he felt like the one who was powerless here.

He could have told Derek that his captors hadn't done any bad-touching, but he lost his words when Derek moved his mouth to his cock anyway. He was, of course, completely erect by this point, and the feeling of Derek's wet heat and his tongue was overwhelming. He slumped back against the wall, worried he wouldn't be able to hold himself up, but Derek's firm - more than firm - grip on his hips made holding himself up unnecessary. He was so lost in the sensations that he clearly missed a couple of steps, since the next thing he knew he could feel a slicked finger at his entrance. Really, where the fuck did Derek get lube from?

He wanted it so badly, but he wasn't ready for it. So he made an undignified squawking sound, figuring Derek would stop in response, but what Derek did was completely unexpected.

Derek removed his finger, yes, but only so that he could stand up and flip Stiles around so that he was facing the wall, the front of his body pressed against the cold plaster. He wasn't sure exactly why he made the next alarmed sound - the cold or the surprise or the finger back at his ass in this new position - but Derek used his other hand to cover his mouth, trapping the sound inside.

"Just... just... let me... I need..." Derek muttered, sounding desperate and not okay at all. Somehow this stopped any fear growing in Stiles - it was still Derek who he knew and loved, even if he hadn't told him that yet.

So he was calm as Derek put one finger up him, then two and then three, despite being trapped between Derek's muscular body and the wall with no room to move. It was actually starting to feel pretty fantastic and, yeah, he was pretty confused about what was going on and he knew this wasn't exactly how it was supposed to go, but he was pretty sure he was going to come soon anyway.

But then Derek took away his hand and Stiles didn't know what to feel. He heard the noise of a zipper and his carefully thought-out calm disappeared as he felt what was clearly Derek's dick at his asshole, stretched but not stretched nearly enough for this (or so he thought, anyway - he had tried a finger once or twice, but really had no idea how it worked for anything bigger and he didn't even know how big Derek's dick was). And he didn't know if Derek was wearing a condom, or if he needed to, or what.

So yeah, he freaked out a bit, but when he struggled and squirmed all it did was work Derek's cock further into him. He tried to bite down on Derek's hand, which was still covering his mouth, preventing his gasps and whimpers from escaping, but Derek just breathed harder and pushed more. And it hurt. Not as much as he imagined at the beginning, but despite the lube and the prep with three fingers, Derek was pretty big, he'd guess, and it was seriously uncomfortable. 

Derek was all the way in him now, making broken noises that gave voice to the ones Stiles couldn't make. Stiles could feel the material of Derek's jeans on his ass - he couldn't help but picture Derek' cock jutting out from his pants, which he hadn't even bothered to take off. He started moving in and out, harder and faster, fucking Stiles into the wall, and Stiles continued to try to move, but if he was honest with himself he wasn't sure if he was trying to get away any more or if he was trying to participate. 

If the pain in his ass stopped, the pain elsewhere started back up - he was still bruised from before and Derek wasn't being gentle; his body banged into the wall at his shoulder and his hip and he thought that Derek was actually making some bruises of his own this time, including what would doubtless be a hand-shaped bruise on his side where Derek was clutching him.

He knew this wasn't what he had wanted, he knew this was the wrong night to be doing this and that Derek was holding him down and not giving him a choice, but it was Derek and he was young and a virgin (now an ex-virgin, he supposed). He wanted to be surprised but he really wasn't as he got closer and closer to the edge. He squeezed his eyes shut with sensation and confusion and a bit of shame that he was enjoying this after all as he came, spraying come all over the wall and clenching down, setting Derek off too. It was more than he ever thought it would be, the feeling of coming with Derek inside of him, of Derek being everywhere and all around him physically in way that mirrored his all-encompassing presence in Stiles' mind. In that one moment, the only thing he regretted is that Derek hadn't gone crazy sooner.

Derek grew gentle, then, kissing his neck and removing his hand so Stiles could pant out loud. He withdrew and Stiles could feel the lube and come dripping out of his ass and it made him feel dirty but not used, not exactly. Not dirty in a bad way, not when Derek was still behind him, running his hand over the curves and angles of Stiles' body. 

He wanted to crawl into Derek's bed and fall asleep beside him, but he knew his father would be worried if he didn't get home. And while he wanted to cuddle with Derek, maintain the closeness of their bodies that they had won tonight, he wasn't sure what to say to him. So when Derek zipped up his pants and sat down on a kitchen chair looking completely blank, Stiles put on his clothes and kissed him goodbye as he would have on any other night, then walked home.

He couldn't sleep for a long time, not even after he showered. He knew he should have been worrying about his relationship with Derek or Derek's obvious sexual issues, but instead he mostly dwelled on his discomfort with his own (mostly positive) reaction to what happened. And he found himself getting himself off to thoughts of Derek pushing into him and himself trying to get away before he finally fell asleep.

Derek didn't call him the next day, or answer any of his texts. The day after that, Stiles figured that he was allowed to be a pushy boyfriend because this was Beacon Hills for heaven's sake and not answering your phone could easily mean you're dead. So he just showed up at Derek's door and maybe he had to knock a few times but eventually Derek let him in.

"You're okay," Stiles said, with relief. "Dude, no matter what, you have to answer your phone. Pack rule number one."

Derek just stared at him then went to sit down on the couch, cradling his head in his hands and looking dejected. Stiles sat down next to him.

"What?" he asked.

"You're asking me if I'm okay? After I -"

"No," Stiles said firmly, cutting Derek off. He didn't want to hear the word and he didn't want Derek to say it. 

"Just... that's no excuse not to call, okay? Otherwise you end up with a batshit crazy boyfriend." Stiles nudged Derek's foot with his own and Derek looked up at him. This was weird, Stiles thought. And Derek obviously thought so too. 

But Stiles didn't like weird and he did like Derek, so he put on a movie and curled into Derek's body on the couch like he'd done so many times before. When Derek finally relaxed into him and pressed a kiss to his head, he smiled.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As usual, not beta read, proofread or edited. I planned to, I swear, but I just need to get this out. This part was super hard to write for several reasons, so... I dunno.
> 
> I think this also establishes that I apparently fail at PWP.
> 
> PS, sorry for the day-late proofreading.

Stiles was over at Derek's apartment, enjoying the peace from supernatural terrors that was bound not to last much longer. His dad was out of town for a work thing so he could spend all weekend over at Derek's - he loved falling asleep and waking up next to him.

They were sitting on the couch with a baseball game on in the background. Derek was reading - some non-fiction book about World War I, the nerd - and Stiles was working on his college applications. Stanford and Berkeley were stretches but they were awesome schools and he wanted to try. SF State and UC Santa Cruz were a little more realistic. He didn't want to go too far and he lived a few hours away from some of the best schools in the country, so he wasn't even bothering with schools outside of Northern California.

He and Derek hadn't really talked about the whole college thing, though. Stiles figured that, worst case scenario, he could come back for breaks and some weekends and Derek could come visit him sometimes and they'd make it work; best case scenario, maybe Derek wouldn't mind moving to San Francisco with him. He knew they needed to talk about it soon, though.

Stiles looked up, thinking this might be a good time to bring it up, but he saw Derek nibbling on his thumb and got distracted by Derek's lips... and face... and, well, fine, Derek generally. He took a minute just to look at him. He still had trouble believing, sometimes, that this was his life - beyond all the werewolf-y madness, the fact that he was actually allowed to stare unabashedly at this ridiculously sweet and hot guy still stunned him.

Derek must have heard something in his heartbeat, because he looked up from his book.

"What?" he asked, a little shy smile on his face.

"Nothing," Stiles replied, grinning back.

"You were staring at me." Derek moved his thigh so that he nudged Stiles' ankle. 

"Yeah." He thought he must look stupid, but he just wasn't able to stop smiling at Derek, who was smiling just as goofily back at him. The next thing he knew, Derek's hands were pulling his hips down the couch so that he was lying flat and Derek was on top of him.

"So, I'm guessing the work part of the night is done?" Derek asked, while kissing that exact spot on Stiles' neck that always made him squirm.

"Uh, yeah," Stiles said, "definitely over."

They kissed on the couch for a while, and it was warm and nice and comforting. Every once in a while, it seemed like they tried to do what Stiles thought of as normal sex - the extension of the sweetness of the evening and their closeness into a physical expression of love. But this is usually what happened. It's great and it's nice and all, and he honestly enjoyed just lying here making out with Derek, but neither of them were more than half-hard and it just wasn't going anywhere.

After a while they stopped kissing and just held each other for a bit. Then Derek asked: "Bed?"

When they crossed from the living room to the bedroom, it was as if the atmosphere changed somehow. Just the tone of Derek's voice when he told Stiles to strip and get on the bed got him more turned on than all of the (admittedly, very nice) cuddling from before had. 

Then Derek was kissing and biting the bruises he left on Stiles' skin a couple of days ago - he really hadn't ever gotten over his thing for bruising and marking.

"Love seeing the places where I touched you," he said. Stiles realized it was going to be a talking night and he felt himself grow harder at the thought. "Every time you look in the mirror you'll be thinking about my mouth on you when I made this one," he touched a spot on Stiles' thigh, "or my dick down your throat," passing over a scratch on Stiles' shoulder, "or me pounding into your sweet ass," kissing the finger-shaped bruises on Stiles' hips.

Stiles inhaled sharply as Derek's words hit him and Derek's fingers pressed hard into the bruises, refreshing them. 

"What do you want, Stiles?" Stiles didn't answer; he knew the game. "Do you want me to fuck you?" At Stiles' nod, he continued: "I'll fuck you, don't worry, but first you have to earn it."

Derek took off his own clothes and dragged Stiles roughly off the bed. He sat down on the edge of the bed and moved Stiles so he was kneeling between his legs, his face close to Derek's mostly-hard cock. Then Derek planted his feet on the floor in between Stiles' legs and pressed sharply outward on his shins, so that Stiles' legs opened, stretching almost painfully at the hip, and he lost his balance. Before Stiles could get his hands out from behind him, he fell forward into Derek's crotch, his cheek sliding against Derek's dick. 

"Hands stay behind your back," Derek told him, so he kept them there, but without his hands he wasn't able to push himself off the edge of the bed, so he stayed pressed against Derek, slumped forward, his legs still held apart by Derek's, unable to move.

"Good boy," said Derek, as he moved Stiles' head so that it was in front of his dick. Stiles darted out his tongue to lick the tip and Derek groaned. He pushed his hips forward so the head of his dick was just barely pressing against Stiles' lips.

"You want it, don't you." It should have been a question, but it wasn't.

"Yes, please, Derek, please," Stiles begged. This was apparently enough, because Derek moved Stiles' head forward so that his cock dragged slowly down Stiles' tongue to the back of his throat and further, until he had to concentrate on breathing through his nose and not gagging. Derek held him there, then pulled back just a little and pushed impossibly further in. 

"I love how it feels when you're trying to hard not to choke on my cock, I can feel your muscles fluttering," Derek told him. Stiles looked up to meet his eyes as Derek stayed unmoving and he felt like he was starting to lose the battle. His eyes were stinging, he wasn't getting quite enough air and he finally choked. Derek held him there for just a second longer, long enough for the panic to send a rush of adrenaline to his dick, but then pulled him off so he could breathe for a second, before pushing all the way back in, leaving the drool to drip down his chin. 

"Again," Derek demanded, as if Stiles was actually doing anything other than let Derek move him. He repeated the process and kept him choking just a little longer this time, so that Stiles was aware only of the taste and presence of Derek in his mouth and his own dick, jutting heavy out from between his stretched legs. 

As Derek started moving in and out in a rhythm, he moved one of his hands to brush Stiles's cheek.

"Such pretty tears," he murmured.

When Derek started making the noises that Stiles knew meant he was getting close, he pulled Stiles off of him and lifted his body back onto the bed, face down. Stiles drew his knees up under himself, presenting his ass for Derek the way he liked. He wanted to wipe off his face - the tears and the saliva and the precome were combined in a sticky mess, but Derek took hold of his wrists and held them behind his back with one hand.

Derek's other hand moved to his hole and pressed against it with a dry finger.

"I love how you're so tight when I start." Derek jabbed his finger in a little, and while it didn't quite hurt, it promised ungentle treatment. "So tight and hot. Just the same as you felt when I fucked your virgin ass."

Stiles moaned, remembering, as Derek started worming a second finger in. Stiles started to tense up but Derek pulled out and spat on him, so when he went back with three fingers the pressure was bearable - slightly painful but not harmful. 

"You start all tight and innocent looking with those doe-eyes of yours, but by the end you're loose and sloppy and used." He punctuated the last three adjectives with especially hard thrusts of his hand and Stiles felt his shoulders strain against Derek's grip as he tried to leverage himself back onto Derek's fingers. This was such a different Derek than the one everyone else saw, than the one that was his boyfriend in the rest of their lives - this was a Derek who wanted him, wanted him with a desperate, dirty need. 

"Yeah, you like it when I fuck you till you're wide and loose like a whore, don't you?" 

When he withdrew, Stiles took it as permission to talk, so said: "Yes, please Derek, fuck me."

"Going to make you wet," Derek growled, "wet like you're desperate. Wet like the slut you are for my cock." And, like so many other things, Stiles felt deeply conflicted about getting turned on by this. He could spend hours ranting about the social problems of slut shaming and the importance of respect in relationships. But Derek's words just made another dribble of precome leak out of his cock, at the thought of Derek knowing how much Stiles wanted him, how much he wanted to please Derek and how much Derek made him feel. 

"Hold yourself open for me," Derek ordered, and Stiles reached back with both hands to spread himself for Derek to pour lube where he was already hot and swollen.

Sometimes he loved the painful, dry friction of too little lubrication when Derek pressed into him, it heightened the sensation for him. But he couldn't deny that he did feel the way Derek told him to about the messy drip of lube from his ass - he did feel depraved and dirty and pathetically prepared for Derek to fuck into him.

So when Derek pushed in with no pain but only a filthy squelching sound Stiles squeezed his eyes shut and tried not to come on the spot. He wondered if Derek was going to let his knot get really big - he could feel its presence but it was at a pretty moderate, non-painful size at the moment.

"Your ass was just made to be fucked. Gonna get you so loose you could take two dicks. Would you like that?" Derek started moving his hand, first touching lightly on Stiles' own hand, still clenched on his ass cheek, keeping it open. Then he started to run a finger along the rim of where Stiles was stretched around Derek's cock and pressed down before actually putting his finger in Stiles alongside his cock. Stiles grunted in surprise, letting go the content of what Derek last said.

Soon Derek had two fingers in him as well as his cock, which was still swelling but not pushing entirely past his rim. He started to work the thumb of his other hand in, too, and Stiles gasped. He knew the human body was capable of this (he had seen porn, after all) and he also knew that Derek's knot had probably pushed him wider, but there was something different about the idea of so many parts of Derek's body being in Stiles' ass all at once. He felt the weight of Derek's previous threat of making him so loose like it was still hanging in the air. 

"Such a cockslut. Yeah, you'd probably take it from anyone, wouldn't you?"

Which... no. This felt different to Stiles. For him, the whole point of this was that it was Derek doing these things to him, no one else. He didn't want it from anyone else.

"You'd just bend over in a bathroom in San Francisco, holding yourself open like this, letting anyone who came by fuck you."

"No," Stiles broke his silence. This wasn't right; this wasn't sexy any more. This felt like an issue, and if he wasn't so sure that Derek knew him and actually respected him, this would be making him feel pretty shitty. Derek kept moving, in and out, stretching him, and Stiles felt so confused. 

"Yes you would. It wouldn't matter to you who -"

"Stop!" Stiles cut him off, but Derek kept up his relentless in and out, his stretching of Stiles's body and emotions past endurance. And he had said 'stop' to Derek so many times before, and he always meant it, but he hadn't realized that he had only meant it a little before. In that split second, he wondered if Derek had known that all along. 

But this time he really meant it and he actually felt a bad, non-sexy panic as Derek didn't stop, was still hissing about other men fucking Stiles, and Stiles was overwhelmed with a desire to get away from him, from what he was doing and saying.

He yelled 'stop' one last time as he rose up on his knees and elbowed Derek in the chest as hard as he could. 

Obviously Derek wasn't expecting it at all, since he went flying off the bed and stared up at Stiles with huge, stunned eyes. Stiles stared back, both of them panting, and the moment stretched forever as they kept their eyes locked, unable to look away, unable to see what happens next.

Then what was honestly the last thing Stiles could have ever imagined happening broke the stalemate: Derek burst into tears. 

He just curled right in on himself and sobbed. Stiles was too stunned to move. He thought back to that first time when Derek didn't want to talk to him afterwards, and so many other times when he seemed distant or sad before or after they slept together, and he realized that he had been thinking of himself as the possible victim in this strange sexual dynamic of theirs. He thought that if he was okay, it was okay. For some reason, he had never thought about how it might be affecting Derek, since Derek was the one in control.

He was a fucking idiot. 

He got down on the floor next to Derek, ignoring the soreness of his hips where he had been stretched on the floor earlier and his ass which still dripped and felt empty without Derek. He tried touching Derek's shoulder but Derek flinched away from him.

"Okay... Okay, I'm just going to sit here until we can talk. I'm right here, I'm not going anywhere." Stiles tried to talk in a measured tone, tried not to let his own fear leak out into his voice.

After a while, Derek calmed down a little and Stiles tried again, putting his hand gently on Derek's upper back. This time Derek didn't react at all. 

"You should," Derek said.

"What?"

"You should go away." 

Stiles stiffened. 'That's not a choice you get to make for me."

"I make all the other choices, don't I? Like when you had sex for the first time, or how many times you come when -"

"That's different."

"Is it?" Derek raised his head from his knees. "How?" It wasn't a question but a challenge. Stiles wasn't really sure how to answer, anyway.

"I'm fucked up," Derek told Stiles, and it sounded like a confession. "I have been ever since Kate."

"If you're fucked up, so am I," Stiles told him.

"Yeah, because I fucked you up. Same as Kate did to me."

Stiles thought about that. He didn't know. Would he have found all of this hot if it wasn't Derek? Was it an inborn kink or one that came from experience? In the end, he thought, it didn't matter.

"I like it," Stiles told Derek. "And I love you."

"Oh god, don't say that." Derek moved away from him again, as if he couldn't bear the touch of Stiles' skin on his own.

"Why not?" Stiles felt a stab of uncertainty and bit his lip. "Do you... not feel the same way?"

"Of course I do, don't be an idiot."

"Wow, that was romantic." That actually got a shadow of a smile from Derek. 

"This just... isn't right," Derek said, struggling with the words.

"Yeah, it's probably not. But it's been both of us, not just you, and you know it." Stiles moved so he could put his arm around Derek's shoulder, pressed side to side. "And I'm pretty sure people all over the world do stuff like this in a more-or-less healthy way. We can, too."

Derek looked at him quizzically.

"Oh my god, do you not have the internet?" Stiles rolled his eyes.

"Apparently I'm not using it in the same way you are," Derek replied dryly.

"Derek, I love you." The words still tasted new on his tongue. "I want to be with you. Here, or in San Francisco, or wherever. Okay?"

"Yeah, okay. I... I love you, too."

"Good. Now, let's get back into bed and go to sleep, we can talk more tomorrow."

And if, when Stiles was listening to Derek's breathing slow down and grow even, still feeling uncomfortably lubed-up, he worried that they had gone down this path too long, that they really were irretrievably twisted and could never be good for each other, or maybe anyone else either, he didn't tell Derek.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, guys. This story was very interesting - and difficult - to write. I'm not sure if I'm sad it's done or not. As always, I have no idea what you guys will think of this chapter. Or the whole thing, if you're like me and wait for a WIP to be done before starting it.
> 
> I'm just really hoping that anyone looking for another story like Wolf and Twister noticed the vastly, vastly different tags.
> 
> As always, unbetaed, and I will probably end up actually proofreading/editing it within a few days.

Stiles took a moment to appreciate the quiet.

It had been a rough week. His Econ class was killing him - fucking group projects - and for some god-forsaken reason his English class met at 6 pm. The last couple of weeks had been riddled with midterms and project deadlines and he felt like he had barely had time to breathe, much less relax or hang out with his boyfriend. 

But his Econ midterm, the last one of the semester, had been this afternoon and Derek was going to be home from work any minute now.

And Stiles was ready. He was so ready. He had followed the instructions in Derek's text faithfully. Freshly showered and fully cleaned, naked and thinking ahead to their evening, he had gotten himself hard by quick strokes up and down his dick - he didn't touch his ass, that was only for Derek - and slid a cock ring down to the base. Then he got onto their bed, blindfolded and gagged himself, and positioned himself the way Derek liked: his knees tucked under him and ass out. He really hadn't needed the cock ring, he thought - the amount of time since the last time he had gotten off paired with the feeling of being all Derek's, just waiting for him to do what he wanted, would have easily kept him hard anyway.

It wasn't long before he heard a key turning in the lock of their apartment door. He listened for further sounds and tried to identify them - Derek taking off his boots, walking into the bathroom, maybe removing some clothing? It was another couple of minutes before he entered the bedroom.

He heard Derek moving around, moving closer to him. Then he felt warm hands on his wrists - not for long, just long enough to tie them together and then to the headboard.

"Such a good boy," Derek purred, moving behind Stiles on the bed. The position he was in spread his cheeks a fair amount, but Derek spread them further. At first he seemed content just to look, then he touched the pink pucker ever-so-gently with a finger. The feeling was magnified to Stiles - not being able to see or move his body made him focus more on the one place where there was activity.

"Have you been saving your ass for me?" Derek asked, knowing Stiles couldn't answer. Derek poked at it, still not penetrating but pressing more firmly than before. "Hmm, no lube. But you look a little stretched - did you start without me? You wouldn't have done that, would you?"

Stiles squeaked and squirmed, so Derek sighed and untied the gag.

"No, I swear, just the shower, just to clean. I promise." Derek's hands gripped Stiles' ass harder, hard enough that bruises would start to appear soon.

Derek made a considering sound and brought his nose down to sniff at Stiles. Then he started dragging his tongue around the area, finally settling on lapping at his rim, pressing inwards and outwards with his tongue. The wet heat made Stiles moan. Derek's tongue drew all of Stiles' consciousness, all of his senses, to the point where they met. 

Derek drew back. "Good excuse," he said, and Stiles could picture the satisfied smile on Derek's face.

"But still an excuse," he continued, with a harder voice.

"But... but... That's not fair! What else could I have done?"

"Do you want me to put the gag back in?"

"No," said Stiles, chastened. While the idea of the gag was sexy, actually not being able to talk sucked.

Derek moved beside him, so that, while he was still stretched out on the bed lengthwise, Derek's knees were partially under him as he kneeled. Stiles' ass was facing up on Derek's lap, his cock rubbing against Derek's jeans. Stiles knew Derek had actually wanted him to clean himself. He also knew that it was Derek who wanted the excuse.

Derek brought his hand down hard on Stiles' ass - well, hard for a human - and it made a spectacular slapping sound to accompany Stiles' grunt of pain. 

"Did you get hard in the shower?"

"Well, yes, but..." Another slap came down. "I was thinking of you!" And another.

There was some movement and Stiles had a few moments to collect himself. Then Derek spread him open again, his fingers stinging against the red skin, and Stiles felt something cold and hard pressing at his entrance. It was lubricated enough that the plug went in without too much pain, one bulb passing past his rim, then another and another until he felt the base.

And then the spanking really started.

Every blow magnified the pain of the previous strikes on his skin while jabbing the plug right into his prostate. He lost track of everything but the twinned pain and pleasure, and after a while he could no longer tell where one started and the other began. He was pretty sure he would have come, except for the pressure of the cock ring and his surety that Derek didn't want him to.

He must have thrashed and cried, because when Derek stopped his whole body was sore and the blindfold was wet. His ragged gasps were somewhere between pants and sobs. 

There was enough give in the rope for Derek to flip him onto his back without untying his wrists. But he did untie the blindfold - Stiles liked being cut off from his vision, but Derek wasn't so much a fan of Stiles not being able to watch what he was doing to him. Stiles could see that Derek was now entirely naked, too.

Derek yanked out the plug and it felt strange to Stiles - like the pain had reshaped his body around the plug and now a piece was missing. But before he could think on that too much, Derek shoved his dick in to replace it. It hurt, yes, but nowhere near as much as the friction Derek's thrust created between his ass cheeks and the sheets. The quick and brutal intrusion of Derek's cock felt blissful in the contrast.

Derek leaned over him and unfastened the cock ring, then started pounding into him, hard, his pace too much for Stiles' human and hurting body. Then, keeping eye contact, he closed his hand around Stiles' throat, pressing him into the mattress and constricting his air supply.

Stiles panicked a little, gasped, squeaked out a faint 'stop' with his last bit of air. Derek immediately let the pressure go, but he didn't move his hand off of Stiles' neck. He cocked an eyebrow down at Stiles, slowing the motion of his body somewhat.

Stiles thought. It was scary not being able to breathe like that. But Derek wanted to. He knew it was dangerous - he always knew - but Derek was so attuned to his body by now, the noises of his lungs and heart and everything else, that he was pretty sure he'd be able to tell if it was too much. Really, Derek had never hurt him (by mistake) before.

And Derek wanted to.

"Yellow," Stiles admitted. The hand closed back around his throat.

"Then you'll fucking take it," Derek growled, speeding up again, fucking into him so hard that the sensation was just a blur. 

He didn't panic this time, and every time he was sure it was too much, sure he was going to pass out, Derek released him long enough for a few gasps. Everything was blurring, then, his sore ass, inside and out, Derek above him, the pressure on his neck, the pressure of blood pounding in his cock...

His body tried to arch as he came but it had nowhere to go. Everything that was indistinct came together into one beyond-intense climax - he thought he would burst out of his body. He was pretty sure his eyes bugged out of his head, at the very least. It felt like it went on for minutes - he didn't know if it was the long deprivation and build up, or a trick played by his tenuous hold on consciousness. He was only distantly aware of the release of his neck, of Derek's movements growing jerky and then finally stopping.

Derek untied him and rolled him onto his side, then lay down facing him. After a little bit of regrouping on Derek's part, he started carefully and gently running his hands over Stiles' body, double-checking that nothing was seriously wrong. When Derek reached for a damp washcloth he had obviously placed on the bedside table beforehand and started cleaning them up, Stiles finally felt able to speak, but he waited until Derek was done.

"Holy shit," Stiles rasped out, feeling an unfamiliar but mild soreness in his throat, "that was insane."

Derek softly kissed the finger-shaped bruises on Stiles' neck. 

"You good?" he asked.

"Yeah, I'm good," Stiles answered, nuzzling into him and feeling entirely boneless and jelly-like.

Derek kissed his forehead and hugged him to his body, arranging them in a position in which he knew they'd be comfortable enough to fall asleep, even if they almost inevitably ended up migrating to their own sides of the bed during the night.

"So, how did the Econ exam go?"


End file.
